I Didn't Deserve That!
by mad.madoxx
Summary: France thinks England has no talent with the ladies. England wishes to prove him wrong.  Unfortunately for him, his ex's have something to say on the matter as well.  Small Pirates reference.


**I OWN NOTHING! **

Contains a _Pirates of the Carribean_ reference and characters I made up. This is my first story so I'll apoligize to you ahead of time.

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><p>"I Didn't Deserve That!"<p>

England was not amused. The UN meeting had gone terribly, with everyone rambling on but nobody listening. It was late, he was tried, and a new Doctor Who episode was premiering tonight. The last thing England wanted to do was go clubbing. With France. But he was his ride home.

The frog-eating fop was on the dance floor. Literally, he was _lying on_ the dance floor. France was doing some kind of strange break dancing akin to what one would see in a Cirque du Soleil act. His partner Seychelles watched in amazement and admiration. So did most of the other women in the club, and most of the men. They chanted, "Go Francis! Go Francis! Go Francis!" With a flawless pirouette turn he was up on his feet and the whole club cheered. About twenty girls ran up to him after begging for the next dance, one actually on her knees. England sighed, 'I hate my life.'

France pried himself from his fangirls and came over to England. England pretended not to notice. "See Arthur, I told you this would be fun! What's with the long face? Are you not enjoying yourself?" asked France.

England snorted. "Since when do you care? I told you I didn't want to come and now I've been standing here in the corner for the past twenty minutes!"

"Ohhh non, is someone jealous? I didn't know you felt that way about me, although I can hardly blame you. Come and dance with me, mon cher!"

"You twit, that's not what I meant! If I were to dance it would be with a young lady, not a Parisian poof!" England scowled.

"Well, if you're so confidant, why don't you ask one of the girls to dance?"

England paused then stared down at his drink, "I'd rather not."

"What, are you scared?"

"No!"

"Face it, conard. I am a better lover than you"

"Just because you 'get around' more does not make you a better lover, it makes you an absolute—." Just then England saw a girl looking at him across the dance floor. She was tall, with a brown bob framing her dark eyes. She reminded him of an actress who was in _Chicago_. She stared at him for a moment, than began to make her way over to him, weaving in and out of the bodies. He saw his opportunity. Turning to France he said, "I'll have you know I'm an excellent lover. See that girl walking toward us. Her name is Wales. I have been with her a few times and she's mad about me me, poor thing. She can hardly keep her hands off –. " _Smack!_ Wales's hand struck England's left cheek with a sound like a wet fish hitting pavement. That's a much undignified sound.

"You git!" she spits and storms off.

France laughed, "She seems more mad _at_ you!"

"I didn't deserve that!"

As England rubbed his cheek, he noticed another girl walking toward him, one with fiery curls and beautiful blue eyes. "Ah, Ireland! I haven't seen you in a while."

Ireland quipped, "Who was _she_?"

"What?"

Wrong answer. Ireland punched him in the face. She stomped away, muttering curses in Gaelic. France's laugh grew louder and he grabbed hold of his sides. England was about to tell him to shut up when he saw a third girl coming. This one was exotic, with a long black braid and a bindi on her forehead. England covered his face and braced for impact. It came, though not to his face. India had kneed him squarely in the groin. He crumpled to the floor. So much for passive resistance.

France was now laughing so hard he had to grip the side of the bar counter to stay standing. Through gasps and gulps of air he managed, "Let me guess, you didn't deserve that one either."

England groaned, "No, that one I did deserve."

"Well, it looks like your right, Arthur. Women can't keep their hands off you."

England moaned, "I hate my life."


End file.
